


You Can't Fight With Us!

by Artemis_Phoenix



Series: The League of Plastics Trilogy [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling
Genre: Drabble, Humor, M/M, Mean Girls Parody, Romance, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 09:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6560803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Phoenix/pseuds/Artemis_Phoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's <i>Wrestlemania</i>, and someone violates the rules of The League of Nations.</p><p>Takes place at <i>Wrestlemania 32</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can't Fight With Us!

**Author's Note:**

> A drabble inspired by _Mean Girls_... I don't own a fucking thing.

It was the biggest show of the year, and The League of Nations were about to seek revenge on The New Day for mocking them, and being annoying. Everyone wore gear in matching colors and did a couple of warm-ups. Alberto Del Rio was the only one in the group that didn't match. He wore trunks in sheer metallic gold, and he would get scolded at by management for doing so. It wasn't just the color specifically, it was more how the color had exposed his junk. Now, there is nothing wrong with showing a bit of cock or cleavage, but WWE was a family-friendly company and they needed to maintain that image. Because of that, Alberto had to wear black trunks, and he didn't have a problem with what he wore to the ring. He was in phenomenal shape. So what if everyone was jealous of his physique and how he was blessed downstairs? The only person who couldn't get enough of him was his lover, Drew Galloway, who was in his home country doing what he always loved.

He was in the locker room on his phone sending Drew texts. He was happy to see him the last couple of days. He took him out for a couple of dates, celebrating his belated TNA title win.  _'I miss you already, gatito,'_ he wrote.  _'Did you win your match over there?'_

 _'Not really,_ _'_ Drew responded.  _'At a bar here, about to watch the show. I'm waiting for you, love. I can't stop thinking about you. About night before.'_

Alberto blushed at the texts. _'Really, mi amor? '_

_'Aye I miss your hands touching all over me. Playing with my hair, my chest, my navel. Marking me with hickies. Talking so bloody filthy fingering my hole.'_

The Mexican's cock and hole twitched at the words painted erotically across his phone screen.  _'Ay, gatito...'_ he texted back, palming the trembling shaft trapped in metallic gold spandex.  _'No me digas mas. Your turning me on.'_

_'It's your own fault. I'm a bit tipsy, and all I want is to feel that big dick in mouth.'_

Now Alberto was all beet-red and his cock was semi-hard.  _'Drew! Stop it! If I go out to the ring so rock hard I swear to god...'_

_'Oh, I wanna see you so hard when you come to the ring, darling. Was that gonna be your gift?'_

_'Drew, ya! Por favor, mi amor.'_

_'All right, I'll stop while I'm at it. Don't want you to get in trouble with boss. Especially, at Wrestlemania. I'll be home in Tampa for a couple of days. By the way, off topic. Is butter a carb? I was told here in Scotland that it wasn't. Anyway, good luck tonight, baby. I love you.'_

Alberto's cock subsided as the three members of The League of Nations burst through the locker room door. They were disappointed in Alberto's ring attire, as it violated the rules The League of Nations had established when they became a faction. "Fella," Sheamus said. "We need to talk."

Alberto waved his phone at them. "Drew wants to know if butter is a carb."

Wade rolled his eyes. "Yes," he told him.  _If that Scotch knew what carbs were, he wouldn't be eatin' the way he is while travelin'._

Sheamus folded his arms and stared at Alberto like he was prey. "Bertie, yer wearin' gold. We ain't got titles and it ain't a title match."

"So?" The Mexican scoffed.

"So that's against da rules," Rusev explained. "That mean you don't fight with us."

Alberto started laughing. "Are you fucking kidding me? Those rules aren't even real!"

"They were real the day I wore track suit!"

"Because that track suit was disgusting!"

Suddenly, Sheamus threw a chair across the room and yelled, "YOU CAN'T FIGHT WITH US, FELLA!"

Alberto got up from his seat and smirked. "Go yell at the seamstress who made my trunks. Drew wants to see me in these, anyway."

Wade scoffed and muttered a string of insults. "What was that, Barrett?" The Mexican glared at him. "You got something to say? Are you jealous? You're not even going to be in the fucking match, so I don't know why you have to be such a little bitch."

With that Wade didn't say a word but stormed out of the locker room. Sheamus and Rusev shook their heads in disgust. "Oh, you're not gonna talk?" Alberto hissed at them. "Fine! Be like that. You can walk back to the hotel by yourselves, putos!"

As he stormed out of the locker room, Alberto bumped into Damien Sandow, who pointed to his crotch and yelled, "Would you please cover your penis up?! You're disgusting!"

The rest of the roster responded in a string of catcalls as Alberto growled and stormed off to where Gorilla was, where he got ready for his match.

 

**THE END.**

 


End file.
